


Warm Cocoa And Gingerbread Children

by filthyvictorian



Category: Free!
Genre: Foot Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, never in my life did i think i would tag anything with foot jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 22:57:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4324002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthyvictorian/pseuds/filthyvictorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When something breaks, it can take a long time to put it back together again — even longer if nobody knows it was broken in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm Cocoa And Gingerbread Children

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Makoreipu](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/128091) by Kanbe Chuji. 



> **TRIGGER WARNING:** The doujin that inspired this fic is 100% child pornography + rape, please read at your own risk.
> 
> This fic is something of an aftermath of that doujin, set sometime after season one and sometime before Eternal Summer.

“A Christmas party…?”

It was Nagisa who had suggested it, of course – a party at Haru’s house, celebrating the holiday and their break from school, as well as an excuse to get more presents. Rei had apparently agreed that a party was a good plan well before Nagisa had pitched it to the group, and Kou signed on almost straightaway. Haru was quiet, of course, neither agreeing nor denying that a party should be held at his house – only Makoto’s tone gave away his doubts, as he repeated Nagisa’s words back in question form. 

“Mhmm!” Nagisa replied, endlessly enthusiastic. “Just like when we were kids! We can even invite Rin-chan! Remember the last party we had, Mako-chan –- the one where Goro-chan dressed up as Santa?”

Nobody seemed to notice except for Haru. The way Makoto’s breath caught, the corners of his lips pressing downwards for only a second, his fists clenching – blink and you’ll miss it; he was back to gentle smiles and warmth in an instant. 

“Yeah, I remember,” said Makoto. Haru noticed the change in his tone, how his voice sounded tighter now. He watched Makoto carefully.

“Yay!” Nagisa exclaimed. “So it’s settled then! A party at Haru-chan’s during the break.”

“Hold on,” Haru said, his first words of the meeting. He took his eyes off his best friend's back, instead casting his gaze towards Nagisa. “I never said it was okay to use my house.” 

After a moment, Haru looked back towards Makoto, and was met with anxious green eyes and a small smile.

“Aw, but Haru-chan, everyone else agreed to it…” Nagisa pouted, taking quick steps towards Haru and butting his head into the boy’s side. Haru wouldn’t budge. He took another glance at Makoto, who still had that same mouth upturned at the corners, and that same anxious look in his eyes – only this time, his brows were knit together, and he had the look of somebody who was thankful yet couldn’t accept what was being done. It reminded Haru of their time in the abandoned lighthouse, during the game that Nagisa had concocted.

 _“It’s okay, Haru,”_ is what Makoto had said, and he seemed to be saying it again. Haru let out a sigh. 

“Fine.”  
-  
  
Later, while he walked home next to Makoto, Haru found himself unable to tear his eyes away from his friend for too long. Makoto seemed to be having the opposite problem, staring out into the horizon as they walked along the beachfront. 

“Makoto,” said Haru. Makoto didn’t pause his footsteps or turn his head, or even make a sound to acknowledge what Haru had said. He tried again, stopping his feet for emphasis. “Makoto.”

This time, Makoto acknowledged him by stopping as well, and even turning to face Haruka. 

“Yes?” he asked in that same strained voice from earlier. It made Haru shiver. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with the party?”

Again, Haru watched as Makoto seized up, as his breath caught, his face fell. And again, he watched him recover in only a moment, as long as it takes to pop a soap bubble. The sun was setting, casting golden light over the beachfront, enveloping Makoto in a warm glow; but even the glow of the last rays of sunlight did not reach Makoto’s eyes as that small smile once again touched his lips. 

“Of course I am,” he said softly. 

“Really?” Haru asked, looking his best friend directly in the eyes. Makoto was able to hold his gaze for only a couple of seconds before looking away, choosing instead to make eye contact with Haru’s shoes. Makoto took a couple of breaths before responding. 

“Really.”

Haru was far from accepting this answer, but after a few beats and a small sigh, he decided to let the topic go, for now. The rest of their walk home was silent and awkward, and Haru didn’t even say a proper goodbye when they parted ways. 

He was angry, Haru decided after he’d made it home and started the water running in the bathtub, making sure the water was steaming before he put the plug in the drain. Or maybe not angry, but upset, at the very least. He and Makoto had always shared things, or, at least, he liked to think they did – maybe they didn’t, though, Haru mused as he shut the taps off and put a cautious toe into the water. He winced – too hot. 

Eating some mackerel while he waited for the water to cool seemed like a good idea; clad only in his swim trunks, Haru left the bathroom and made a beeline for the kitchen. As he put on his apron and grabbed the proper wares for frying up mackerel, he continued his line of thought. 

He hadn’t really told Makoto about his problems with Rin, had he? And maybe Makoto would never have even told him about the fisherman had Haru not been there to experience the loss with him. Maybe he and Makoto really weren’t as open as he thought they were, despite how well they knew each other. Maybe knowing each other just had to do with time. Haru’s shoulders sagged, and he left the fish in the pan without ever turning on the stove – a bath was a better idea than mackerel right now, no matter how hot the water.  
-  
  
The next day, Makoto didn’t walk with Haru to school, which Haru attributed to the fact that they had had a pseudo-fight the day before; when Makoto missed first period, however, Haru once again felt that something was wrong, that Makoto was hiding something important. When Makoto had still not arrived for class by second period, Haru decided he would skip the next class and go check on his friend, even if he was still a little upset from last night. 

So about an hour later, Haruka was at the front step of the Tachibana residence, ringing the doorbell and waiting for a response. After a minute passed with no answer, he tried again, holding the button down a little longer than necessary – no reply. So Haru did what any sensible person would do: he gathered some small rocks up from the front garden, walked around to the side of the house where Makoto’s bedroom was, and began tossing said rocks at his friend’s bedroom window. Finally, after the seventh rock had been thrown, the indoor curtains were pulled back and Makoto’s face appeared, looking a little worse for wear. His eyes widened when he saw Haru, and he opened the window a couple of inches. 

“Haru…? What are you…?” Makoto wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to his long-time best friend throwing rocks at his window in the middle of the day.

“You weren’t at school,” Haru stated, as though it was an answer to Makoto’s unfinished question. 

Makoto just stared at Haru for several moments, bewilderedly trying to get a sentence out. In the end he just let out a puff of breath, something like a laugh and something like a sigh, and told Haru to meet him at the front door before sliding the window shut and disappearing behind the curtain, which fluttered closed behind him. 

A few minutes later Haru was sitting at the dining room table while Makoto boiled water for tea in the kitchen. Haru’s eyes were trained on the brunette’s back, watching as he paced back and forth, grabbing cups and tea packets and sugar, all while very obviously not looking at Haru. He didn’t even turn around when he asked Haru what he’d like in his tea (not that he had really needed to ask, considering Haru had taken it the same way since childhood). When the tea was finally ready, Makoto brought the two mugs to the table, placing one in front of Haru and the other in front of himself, sat down in the chair across from the black-haired boy, and finally looked at him. Haru met his eyes. Makoto looked away again. 

“Makoto.” 

It was Haru’s tone that made Makoto look up again. He sounded firm, authoritative, like he wasn’t going to back down from finding out what had Makoto so rattled. It scared him, honestly. He was terrified of letting Haru know why a Christmas party was the last thing he wanted. But when he looked into Haru’s eyes he knew he would have to, eventually.

“Not now,” said Makoto, surprising Haru, whose eyes reflected confusion. Makoto took a deep breath. “Please, Haru? I’m not—I can’t tell you yet. I’m not ready yet. Please?”

For an eternity, Haru could only stare, processing what Makoto had said. So there was something he had yet to share. It hurt Haru, thinking there was something Makoto couldn’t share with him; not only because it made him feel like an incapable friend, but because the way that Makoto had confessed it made Haru feel like it was something truly despicable, truly frightening. 

In the end, all Haru could do was sigh. 

“Okay,” he said. “But really, if this party is going to be too much for you, tell me.”

“It…” Makoto sighed as well, crossing his arms and folding a little closer into himself, eyes cast towards the table. “I’ll be okay.”

“Makoto,” Haru said again in that commanding tone from before; Makoto met his eyes once more. “The last time you said you were okay and you weren’t, I… almost lost you.” And finally, after a moment, he said, “Please.”

It was Makoto's turn to stare, if only for a few moments. His eyes glistened with emotion, finally, and his mouth fell slowly into a small “O,” then turned into more of an upside down “U” as the corners of his lips tugged downwards and the glistening in his eyes formed into tears which fell steadily down his cheeks. He curled into himself as he cried, quiet sobs which mounted in volume as Makoto’s nose stuffed up and he had to breathe through his mouth – thick, wet gasps which were racked with obvious pain. His forehead hit the table; he gripped tightly onto his own arms, digging nail marks into the flesh without notice as he continued to cry and shake, still doubled over and trying not to scream.

Haru looked on in astonishment, frozen like a deer in headlights. Makoto had never cried like this before, not even when the old fisherman died all those years ago. He had no clue what do to -- so he just sat there watching his friend, feeling his own eyes well up with a few tears and willing them in vain not to escape. What could have hurt him so much that Haru had no idea about? This hurt Haru so much that he couldn’t possibly begin to understand how Makoto must be feeling. 

Finally, after what felt like a long while, Haru stood and walked over to his friend, his steps light and a little nervous and unsure. 

“Makoto,” he said softly, reaching out towards to brunette who was still hunched over in pain. As soon as Haru’s fingers brushed Makoto’s shoulder, the boy flinched away so violently that an audible thud and a scrape could be heard as Makoto’s ribs collided with the dining room table, sending it sliding a few centimetres away. 

Haru backed up, eyes wide and hand still outreached. Makoto’s eyes were clenched shut now, and he was muttering something under his breath that Haru couldn’t quite make out, though he could tell his voice sounded frightened. Slowly, Haruka retracted his hand, but still he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Makoto, who all of a sudden snapped his head up and turned to look at Haru with wide, nervous eyes. 

“H-Haru…?” he said uncertainly, looking a lot like Ran had that time she got lost at the zoo.

“Yes,” Haru replied, not moving from his spot and not daring to reach out again. Makoto wiped his eyes with his sleeve, but still a few dripped down his face as he spoke.

“I’m sorry… I-I…” he took a deep breath, but Haru interrupted him before he could continue.

“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to push you.” 

Makoto held Haru’s gaze for a moment before averting his eyes to the tear-stained surface of the table and wiping at his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. It would need to be put in the hamper later, but right now Makoto realized he was too exhausted to even think about moving. His eyes slipped shut for a few beats, opening again when he realized that Haru was standing closer now, arm outreached and with some napkins in his hand; Makoto took one, offering his friend a ghost of a smile in return. It honestly sort of scared Haru, but he wasn’t about to say so. Makoto noisily blew his nose into the napkin.

“Hey, Haru… Do you mind if we pick this up some other time?” 

“Sure,” Haru replied, placing the rest of the napkins on the table. “Are you going to be alright on your own?” 

“Ye—” He cut himself off, pausing to really consider Haru’s question. Makoto sighed. “I don’t know. I think so. Somebody should be home soon, and I think I’m going to have a nap. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Haruka nodded in reply, then turned to see himself out the door. Makoto ended up following, leaning against the hallway wall as he watched Haru don his shoes and coat. After they had said further goodbyes and the door was shut, Makoto tiredly dragged himself back to his bedroom and practically fell into his bed. The tea still sat on the kitchen table, getting colder and colder by the minute, and his shirt’s sleeve was still snotty and damp, but Makoto couldn’t bring himself to care as he closed his eyes and drifted into a shallow, dreamless sleep.  
-  
  
Three days later, the last school bell marked the start of a week-long winter vacation. Makoto hadn’t brought up the incident yet, and Haru wasn’t exactly eager to send his friend into another crying fit, so the issue of the Christmas party simply hadn’t been discussed between the two of them – it had, however, been brought up every single lunchtime by Nagisa, who was as persistent as a little kid begging to be bought the latest cool toy. Haru had avoided giving the blonde an answer until just this day, after he had looked to Makoto, who was holding firm in insisting with his eyes that a party would be fine. 

Now, Haru and Makoto were walking home along the beach, as per usual. Once again, Haru found himself gazing at his best friend, while said friend looked straight ahead as they walked – but this time, it was Makoto who came to a stop first.

“Hey, Haru…” 

Haruka stopped as well, still looking at Makoto. The sun’s setting glow was upon him again, illuminating his downcast face and throwing shadows in odd places, making the scene look eerie and off. 

“Can I… Well—Um…” Makoto’s eyes were trained on the ground, but even so Haru could tell they were anxious along with his voice and his actions. He seemed almost afraid. After a lot of stuttering and stumbling over words, Makoto finally drew in a deep breath, let it out, and started over.

“I… want to tell you what’s wrong. But not… here. Let’s go to your house.”

The walk to Haru’s was quiet and filled with tension. It was a miracle Haru didn’t bump into anything with how often his eyes were on Makoto the whole walk home – now they were at his house, as silent and still as ever. After taking off their shoes and coats, the two entered the living room and sat at the kotatsu, one across from the other. Makoto sat with his knees up and his arms wrapped around himself, while Haru sat cross-legged with his elbows folded neatly on the table. He waited. After a long while and a few false starts, Makoto spoke.

“I… Haru, can you promise me something?”  
Haru simply looked at him, feeling a little startled, before nodding. Makoto took a deep breath.

“Please… don’t hate me for this.”

“I won’t,” Haru responded, almost immediately. He was certain he could never hate Makoto, not for real. Sure, they had their spats, but Haru’s anger never lasted longer than a couple hours – he loved Makoto too much to ever hate him.  
Makoto’s eyes widened in surprise at the quickness of Haru’s reply, then quickly melted into a look which Haru thought he could place as almost guilty. His mouth opened and shut, opened and shut, like he was about to speak but couldn’t find his words. Haru waited patiently for his friend to start.

He didn’t know where to begin. Every time he thought he knew what to say, he would forget how to speak. He could hear his heart beating, feel it pounding in his chest like a bass drum. The clock was ticking loudly in the other room. Haru was watching him, waiting for the answer to all of his questions. A bead of sweat dripped down Makoto’s temple. The kotatsu was suddenly too warm, and he pushed himself out from under it, standing up so quickly the room spun for a moment. Haru still watched, looking worried now. 

“I’m sorry!” he blurted out before making a run for the washroom, barely making it to the toilet in time to empty his stomach contents into the bowl with a nasty retching sound. Haru followed him in, kneeling down to rub Makoto’s back as he crouched in front of the porcelain bowl, waiting for more bile. None came, and a few minutes later the faucet was running in the sink and Makoto was splashing water on his face. Haru was hovering in the doorway, back to watching. 

“Makoto,” Haru finally said, causing the former to look at him. “I’m canceling the party.”

Makoto smirked a little and looked in the mirror before nodding. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

Haru realized in that moment that he was scared for his friend. He trusted Makoto not to do anything rash, but if Makoto went home Haruka got the feeling he wouldn’t sleep well that night. He needed his friend here, so he knew Makoto was safe. 

“…Will you stay here tonight?”

Makoto seemed to understand. 

And so, after a call home to let his family know he was staying over at Haru’s, the two were sitting together on the couch, trying to decide who would take the first evening bath. (Haru had briefly entertained the idea of not taking a bath so he could spend extra time with Makoto, but he had quickly ruled that out as a possibility.)

“We could take one together,” Haru suggested in complete seriousness, causing Makoto’s face to heat up. “Just like when we were kids.”

“N-No way!” Makoto exclaimed as his face heated up. “You can go first, since you take longer! I’ll just wait.”

Haru sighed and looked at Makoto again. “I don’t want to leave you alone for that long.”

Just when Makoto thought his cheeks were on their way to cooling down, they were on fire again in an instant, though this time he was a lot quieter about his embarrassment, simply meeting his friend’s gaze with humiliation written all over his face.

“How can you just say things like that...?” he muttered after a while, once he had looked away and trained his eyes on the arm of the sofa which was nearest to him. He reached over to pick at a loose thread. 

“Like what?”

“Like…” Makoto searched for what he wanted to say, then just settled for breathy laughter instead. “Never mind.” 

Haruka could be such an enigma to Makoto at times. He couldn’t understand how a boy who showed such little outward emotion could feel things so deeply within, could say these embarrassing lines with such genuine sincerity that it sometimes made Makoto’s heart skip a beat. 

The brunette stood from the couch, abandoning the thread, which he had only succeeded in making longer and more of an eyesore, and turned to Haru, extending an arm towards him. 

“Come on. Let’s take a bath.”   
-  
  
This was a terrible idea, Makoto decided as he stood in front of the full tub with nothing but a towel covering his shame. Haru had already entered the bath, and was looking at Makoto expectantly, which only made him feel even more humiliated than he already did. He wasn’t entirely sure why, to be honest – he had changed alongside Haru before and after swim practice more times than he could count, and, as his friend had already pointed out, even bathed with him as a child. Haru wasn’t even naked, and Makoto had certainly seen him in his swimsuit before, in this exact tub. Nevertheless, the embarrassment Makoto felt was as real as any embarrassment he had ever felt before, and he felt a thousand butterflies in his stomach as he finally dropped the towel and entered the tub in a motion that was meant to be fluid, but ended up being choppy and as awkward as he felt. Water splashed from the tub, soaking the towel he had just dropped on the floor. 

“Are you okay?” Haru asked, to which Makoto responded with a nod. 

“Yeah… Are you?” 

Haru seconded Makoto’s nod.

The two sat facing each other, with Makoto’s knees up to his chest and Haru’s legs a little more open to accommodate the extra body. The faucet was very slowly drip, drip, dripping, and the waves in the tub whenever a boy shifted would splash more water outside the tub, but otherwise the room was almost agonizingly silent and still. When Makoto’s eyes drifted to Haru’s, he saw that his eyelids had slipped shut, and he seemed to be thinking about something, but Makoto had no clues as to what. His own eyes slid closed after a few moments, and suddenly everything that had felt strange started to feel peaceful; the steam from the warm water clung to him the way his mother might have when he was young, and the dripping of the water matched with his breaths, in and out, in and out, in and out… 

“M-Makoto… Makoto!” 

He must have fallen asleep, because he was definitely woken up by Haru calling his name, and by water making its way up his nose; using Haru as a springboard, Makoto propelled himself back up to a sitting position with his head fully above the water – he coughed and blew air out of his nose to try and force the water out.

“Sorry, Haru,” Makoto said once he had sufficiently cleared any unwanted water away. “Must have fallen asleep. Hey… are you okay?”

Haruka’s eyes were clouded over and his cheeks were cherry red, yet still he nodded. He swallowed before speaking. 

“C-Could you… move your foot?” he asked, voice a little hoarse and breathy, which Makoto felt a little odd about, though he couldn’t exactly tell what kind of odd he was feeling.

Makoto looked at where his foot rest -- right on Haru’s crotch. For the third time that day, he was almost certain his face would catch fire. 

“Sorry!” he yelled, pulling his foot as far back as he possibly could and scuttling backwards so he slid up the tub. After a beat, Haru spoke again.

“That’s not exactly… what I meant…” he said in that same breathy voice from before.

…Oh. _Oh._ Now Makoto understood the type of odd he was feeling, as an area far from his face started to heat up a little. Cautiously, he slid back down the end of the tub until he hit the bottom, and inched his foot towards Haru, without touching. Not yet. He met eyes with his…friend, who still looked a little cloudy and hot, but sure of himself and what he wanted. Makoto inched his toes closer still, only daring to brush Haru’s shorts, eliciting a small, sharp inhale from him. He still looked sure about this, and Makoto found himself having to look away as he brushed the bulge in Haru’s shorts once again, this time drawing forth a soft moan as he pushed a little harder, a little faster, up and down, getting just a bit more confident with each stroke. Makoto could  
feel his own cock harden with every caress, but he paid it little mind, focusing instead on Haru’s moaning, which started off quiet and steady but got louder and louder each time he dragged his foot along the clothed erection. 

“M-Makoto…!” Haru exclaimed, reaching wildly for the boy’s arms and pulling him closer, just wanting to be near him. Haruka’s knee brushed the brunette’s crotch as the two adjusted so Makoto was practically on top of his raven-haired companion, reaching down to continue what he had started using his hand instead; the larger boy let out a small gasp. Still, though, he focused on Haru. On the way that the tips of Haru’s hair were floating in the water, on how he always looked so much more like Haru when he was in the water, but how he looked so different right now, cheeks red and mouth agape, eyes a thousand miles away and yet right here with him at the same time. Haru leaned up for a kiss just as Makoto was teasing down into the waistband of his shorts, resulting in a muffled moan which Makoto was certain could have been heard down the block if it weren’t for their locking lips. When the broke their kiss, Makoto’s fingers were still exploring inside Haruka’s shorts, creeping slowly downwards as Makoto fought with the wet, clingy material. 

Haru’s hands were also doing their share of exploring along Makoto’s back, sloppily tracing outlines of muscles which he had always seen but never touched – they seemed so much bigger now than when they were kids. Everything was different now, he realized as his hands moved further downward. He leaned up for another kiss, shorter this time, and then another, and another, peppering the general area of Makoto’s lips with a dozen feverish kisses as his hands squeezed the larger boy’s ass. His breath was heavy and his eyes were lidded as he slipped one hand around to Makoto’s erection, stroking it the same way the brunette stroked his. 

It didn’t take Haruka very long to realize that Makoto’s hand had stopped pumping. His eyes slipped back open, and his gaze was met with wide eyes which reminded Haru too much of the other day. 

“…Makoto?” Haru asked, once he had found his voice again. He brought both his hands up to Makoto’s face, cupping a cheek in each hand. “What’s wrong?”  
A warm watery droplet that hadn’t come from the tub hit Haru’s face, and suddenly Makoto was burying his head in Haru’s chest; Haru struggled to sit up, so that Makoto’s face wasn’t in the water, and wrapped his arms around the brunette’s neck as he stared down at the top of his head.

“I-I’m sorry, Haru,” said Makoto in a stifled voice. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Haru replied in complete honesty, despite the fact he was still half-hard under his shorts and a little uncomfortable because of it; his discomfort didn’t matter nearly as much as Makoto’s. And Haru could take a little comfort in the fact that Makoto’s crying was steadier this time, less in danger of mounting into hysterics. This comfort did very little to ease Haru’s worries, but still he wouldn't pry.  
Makoto felt so _weak_ as he cried tears that didn’t have just one emotion attached. Fear, anger, shame – a million disgusting feelings flooded into him all at once, and all he could do was cry about it. Again, he apologized to Haru, and again Haru told him it was okay. But it wasn’t okay. It might never be okay – he might never be okay. His whole life since that… incident – that vile, horrific, terrifying incident at the Christmas party when they were small -- had been clouded with so many horrible thoughts and feelings that he thought might never go away. 

“Haru, I’m so, so sorry… Please don’t leave…” he choked out; the tears had all but stopped, but still his voice was crying, coughing, sputtering. 

“I would never leave, Makoto.”

Could that be true? Makoto thought about it. No, it couldn’t be. Haru would definitely leave him if he learned what had happened; if he learned how filthy Makoto was. He shouldn’t even be touching Haru right now – he tried to pull away, but Haru held him firmly. Not firm enough that Makoto couldn’t pull away if he tried any harder, but firm enough that Makoto thought maybe he didn’t want to.

“Do you mean it?” Makoto asked, even though he knew the truth. His voice was steadier now; the tears had stopped for real, along with his quiet sobs. But still his head remained pressed into Haruka’s chest.

“Of course.”

And Haru just sounded so sure. It was almost hard not to believe him. To trust him. He was still so, so scared, but this was Haru. His best friend. Makoto took a very deep breath. 

“There was a man,” he started, barely even thinking about it, because he knew that if he did he would be too scared to speak. “At the Christmas party. When… When I opened the door – we all thought it would be Goro, remember? In a Santa suit. But… But it wasn’t. It was somebody else. Somebody I—somebody we didn’t…didn’t know. He…” Makoto drew in yet another deep breath, let it out, repeating the action a few times until he had worked his nerve back up. “He, um… He… had sex with me? He jerked me off and then he -- he raped me, Haru. R-Right in the front yard.” 

Makoto began to tremble harder than any earthquake Haru had ever experienced, but he held Makoto even closer, despite how the tremors caused Makoto’s head to hit his jaw and how sore his arms were getting. Thoughts raced through his mind. How could he have never known? Never even guessed? Had Makoto ever talked to anybody else about this? Had he been lying through his teeth whenever he laughed or smiled or said he was feeling alright? With every thought that came to him, a pit in his stomach got larger and larger, and he felt so sick he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He couldn’t even imagine how Makoto was feeling.

Makoto’s heart was racing, pounding so loudly and quickly that he thought for sure Haru could hear it, though maybe it was drowned out by the crying, which had started anew. Burning hot tears streamed down his cheeks, and he thought he might scream – maybe he was screaming, and he just couldn’t hear it over his heartbeat. His breathing was too fast and painful but he couldn’t do anything to stop it as he thought about how Haru was being so quiet, how he couldn’t see his face and had no way to tell what he was thinking. Had he squeezed Makoto in disgust? His breath was even faster now, oh god, please, _please_ don’t let him leave, was all Makoto could think as he lay there shaking and sobbing and breathing too hard, _too fast_ —

He was hyperventilating, Haru realized in a panic; he flung his head from side to side, trying to locate something for Makoto to breathe into, but all he could see nearby was the wet towel on the floor. Without really thinking, Haru pushed Makoto off his chest, grabbed him by the armpits, and hoisted Makoto out of the tub along with himself. He lay Makoto unceremoniously on the wet towel before wrapping it loosely around his lower half. Makoto reached for Haru, still breathing far too rapidly. 

“H-Haru, please—!”

 _Please don’t leave._ It was all Makoto could think as he was raised out of the tub and placed on the floor. His lungs burned and his throat felt raw, but nothing hurt as much as the thought of Haru leaving him all alone. 

“I’m trying!” said Haru, with unusual emotion –- he sounded panicked, and Makoto couldn’t wrap his mind around why. He started to cough. He wondered if this was how drowning felt; was this how the old fisherman had died, all those years ago? Was this how he would die, all alone on a bathroom floor? Haru was gone now, but Makoto wasn’t sure where.

Haru had run into the kitchen, hoping desperately to find a paper bag there, and clearly some force was on his side because there one was, sitting on the counter, a little grease-stained at the bottom and filled up with grilled fish, but it was a bag. Haru dumped the contents -- initially meant as a parting snack for everyone but had been left behind and forgotten -- onto the counter, not caring in the slightest about the mess or the wasted food, as he raced back to Makoto and thrust the opened bag onto his mouth. 

Everything was starting to go a bit dark and fuzzy around the edges, when he heard a dull thudding right by his head, and somebody put something to his mouth. Was that… Haru? It couldn’t be. Haru had left. But now things were clearing up, and it was getting easier to breathe, and maybe that really was Haru. He had never heard Haru cry before, or felt the weight of his head on his chest, or heard him whisper “I’m so glad you’re okay,” over and over again. All Makoto could do was stare at the ceiling with a look of pure astonishment. 

“You… didn’t leave?” 

“I said I wouldn’t,” came Haru’s muffled reply. Makoto could still feel warm drops on his chest, but the sounds of crying had ceased. 

“But… B-But…!” 

The two lay there for a long while, just crying about whatever they had to cry about, with Haru’s head on Makoto’s chest, and Makoto’s hand finding its way into Haru’s hair. The towel around Makoto’s waist was uncomfortably cold and wet, but he didn’t care. Haru’s neck was starting to hurt from the odd angle, but he didn’t care. All that mattered to either of them was the other, both so glad to be there together. 

Eventually, the two had silently agreed to leave the bathroom, when Haru had adjusted his head and a loud crack had resonated throughout the room. Now, they were lying in their respective sleeping places – Haru on his bed and Makoto on a guest futon – in Haruka’s room, fully dressed but still soaking wet. Neither really cared. Makoto’s arm was half-stretched upwards, and Haru’s was dangling over the bed, so that their fingers could intertwine and they could feel each other’s warmth. A peaceful quiet washed over the room; the moon was peeking through the blinds, casting a serene glow across the two boys. It had been a very exhausting day, but Makoto fought against sleep as he held Haru’s hand just a little tighter. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, voice weaving through the silence.

“…I love you,” was Haru’s reply, as he squeezed Makoto’s hand in return. Makoto was silent again for what felt like an eternity but was in reality on a few brief moments. Haruka listened carefully, feeling his heart skip a beat when he heard a puff of breath from the brunette, terrified he had just set his friend off again. But when he looked over the edge of the bed, he realized in a wave of relief that the corners of Makoto’s lips were turned up in a small, peaceful smile. His eyes slid shut and Haru could feel his hand slipping from his grasp, but in a voice just above a whisper, Makoto was able to reply just before he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
